


The Lies We Tell

by jedi_are_you



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Comfort?, Din Whump, Hurt, grogu saving the day, questionable comfort though not really, though Din really did try his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 23:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30080052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedi_are_you/pseuds/jedi_are_you
Summary: “Give us the kid.” The demand came through the robotic tones standard of a trooper. “We have orders to return him to The Client.”Or:A seemingly normal trip to a Nevarro outpost takes a turn when Din and Grogu are ambushed.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	The Lies We Tell

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing anything for Star Wars — and I hope I did it justice. This idea came to me about a month ago and I finally got around to finishing it, making it into a whopping 5k fic.
> 
> There are some parts of this I’m not too happy about but if I edit it any further I’m going to lose my mind. I apologize for any mistakes, I wrote some of this tipsy...
> 
> Also I have absolutely no idea when this is supposed to take place in the show, so just place it wherever you would like. And bonus points if you guess the song which I stole the fic’s title from!

Grogu delighted in how the lights twinkled from strings in the cantina, eyes growing wide, the picture of awe was painted so vividly on his face. Gold and white illuminated the space around them and the kid marveled in their color. 

The little one let out a giggle, a gasp, that could only be described as child-like. Babbling to himself, his attention was completely overtaken by the ever-changing lights. The cantina’s barkeep sent the ghost of a smile towards Din and he knew it was because of Grogu that she decorated so; they had been a point of talk and chatter amongst the townspeople, some even going out of their way to give the child gifts and trinkets. 

This was not the first time they had come to the larger town; supplies and resources were vital for the desolate and rural settlement they were based in, and this outpost being the largest source of trade, Din often found himself here. 

And with every visit, Din brought the child with him. Not that he didn’t trust those back at the village, but Grogu was not leaving Din’s side. That was a non-negotiable. 

Din took a moment to revel in the pure innocence and joy coming from his young ward; there was a flash of memory, a remembrance of a long forgotten time when Din himself was that young and care-free. Before the attack on his village, his people; before that feeling had been taken from him in an explosion, whisking him up into the sky. 

From then on, Din’s childhood was full of training, fighting and battling and understanding The Way. His youth was contorted and shaped for him to become a warrior, no longer a child who could lose himself in the simple things, such as colored lights. 

Grogu cooed and gurgled and reached his hand up, trying to use his power to move the objects. The stringed light above their table swayed with the smoothness of a gentle breeze, yet no doors or windows were open. 

“Hey. No, not here.” The stern tone Din used had little reaction from the child, who was still taken aback with surprise, though he lowered his hand down to the table. 

It seemed as though no patrons inside had noticed the mysteriously moving light. He sighed inaudibly in relief. That was all Din needed — to be discovered at a place which he considered safe. His sole mission was to lay low for a few months, to keep Grogu out of danger and away from those who wanted to hunt and hurt him. 

Moff Gideon would tear apart the galaxy in search of Grogu. He would do anything —  _ anything _ — to ensure his claim on the bounty and complete his experiments. Din would never allow that to happen; the kid may have possessed powers unbeknownst to him, and that sent a jolt of worry through Din, but he was — 

_ Would he be able to look after this child?  _

Nothing like this had ever presented itself to him before. In the past, Din would bring the bounty to their client and cash in on the prize, going from one job to the next without a second thought. That changed the moment he handed Grogu to The Client and walked away; he never imagined his life taking him to this moment. 

_ Would he be enough? _

Lost in his thoughts, Din let the kid play with the live creature in his meal, not bothering to correct him. The squid wrapped his tentacles around Grogu’s hand and latched on, but the creature was no match for the little one. Slurping the live animal through his mouth, Grogu gave Din a toothy grin. 

Din moved the bowl away from the edge of the table before it toppled over, causing a little whine from Grogu at the loss of the empty dish. 

“Let’s go, you womp rat.” The credits clinked together as Din placed them on the table. Hoisting the child into his arms, the stares of other patrons followed the two as they exited the building into the brutal Nevarro heat. While the child had been welcomed with open arms, the sight of a mandalorian caused apprehension. Suspicion. 

Outside the cantina, the child squirmed and pointed to the ground. Always moving about and exploring the world, Din knew he wanted to get down and play with the local children or try to capture a loose frog or get himself into trouble one way or another. Grogu’s ears twitched against the helmet, his dark eyes seemed to plead with Din.

“Not now, little one.” Grogu narrowed his eyes in stubbornness and there was a brief showdown of who was going to give in first; Din finally won and tightened his arm around him. 

While the townsfolk were not of the trifling type, Din had refused to let the kid walk on his own; he didn’t know who or what may still hunt them both. 

And Din was not taking any chances. 

The child in his arms cooed and babbled, saying something he didn’t understand. A smile was on the kid’s face, wholesome and innocent as he took in the sites of the market: vendors selling their wares and chatter in various languages. Despite the turmoil that had rocked this town only months previously, the citizens were slowly coming back to their feet. 

The afternoon passed in a blur of exchanges and bargains. Finding himself at a humble table with few pickings, material that looked similar to beskar made him pause. 

“How much for this?” Din asked, picking up the protective metal plate. The brilliant sun glinted off the object and caught the kid’s eyes, causing him to further burrow his face into Din’s shoulder.

The haggler took a weary look up into Din’s face,  _ helmet _ , and stammered her answer. Her voice wavered, nervous and stuttering at the sight of a mandalorian at the table. 

Din grunted, annoyed at the ever rising price of armor and placed the object back on the table. There had to be a tent with decently priced objects somewhere in this outpost; if his armor had not been completely destroyed in his latest fight, he wouldn't mind dropping a few extra credits, but having to replace almost all of it?

Not happening. 

In light of the recent gunfight on Tatooine, Din’s armor and weapons had been damaged beyond repair. Returning to The Armorer for new material was absolutely out of the question. There was no way Din would put himself and the child at risk like that solely for metal plating; neither Grogu or himself would be safe from the vipers den of bounty hunters and stormtroopers alike. 

Thinking back to that skirmish, there was an ache in his body that still lingered; muscles in his back and legs spasmed occasionally and, well, maybe he should have disclosed to Paz and Cara just how injured he had been, but he did not. There was a tinge in his left leg from that hard fall off the top of the Razor Crest; maybe next time Din would be more aware of his footing while trying to fend off ravenous jawas. 

But his injury was something he could handle alone. There wasn’t any need for the others to know, nor for any medical treatment; the spasming would go away with time. And any moment of concern brought up by Cara or Paz within the last few days had been brushed off, excusing the limping or gasping or wincing as tiredness.

He let out a sigh. Out here, with no scrutinizing eyes, he allowed for his gait to become slower. There was no facade to be put on for anyone here. 

It was just him and the child, on the outskirts of town, as they headed towards the speeder bike to take them back to the rural village. Here, Din let Grogu walk beside him, running after the occasional frog or lizard but always making his way back to Din’s side. 

There was a flicker of movement across the path before him. A shadow of a figure, too close for comfort. He picked up the child, for now ignoring the whines of protest from the little creature who was so close to devouring a snake whole, and stopped in his tracks. Deathly still. The child sensed the sudden lack of movement, wide eyes looked up into his face, tilting his head in a silent question. 

“It’s alright. Keep silent.” He said in a breath, a whisper. 

With his cape shuffling in the breeze, the only sound was the material brushing against his armor. Grogu had become unusually quiet, listening to what Din had said instead of continuing to babble away. A heartbeat later and still no one appeared before them. They had not walked far from the tents and tables, and so the noise very well could have been another customer of the market rustling through his wares or talking to another. But Din was still on guard. 

Looking around, it was just the two of them on this part of the sands. No other living soul. No droids or troopers or enemies of any sort. 

Din sighed. “It’s nothing.” 

This was all in his head. He was becoming paranoid, looking around every corner for the next attack. Sleep and rest were definitely in the cards soon, but first they had to return to the village.  _ Safely.  _

_ But _ , he couldn’t help but think,  _ was it better to be paranoid rather than careless?  _

“Come on, kid.” He said, still holding on to the child as they approached the transport. Din secured Grogu in his floating pod, making sure the child was snug before getting himself on the bike. A rev of the engine and the two were off, spraying sand and dirt in their wake. 

The town vanished into the wide landscape, being devoured by the terrain in a matter of moments. Despite his bike being purchased at a rather  _ questionable _ establishment, it maintained decent speed, covering land quickly and efficiently. Grogu’s ears began to flap and fly in the wind, but the smile on his face was enough for Din to go slightly faster. 

_ Adrenaline junkie _ . He thought as he pressed the speed until the bike wouldn’t accelerate anymore. 

The hum of approaching speeder bikes caught his attention quickly and with a glance in the vehicle’s mirror, Din realized they had unwelcome company. The stark white armor stood out distinctly:  _ stormtoopers _ .

“Damn.” Din hissed under his breath and pressed down on the speed. A little bit farther and he would be close enough to alert the others. With an entire village defending themselves with an array of weapons, the stormtroopers wouldn’t dare go any farther. 

But the two were gaining on him. Din was not going fast enough. 

His own vehicle refused to accelerate, leaving ample amounts of time for the stormtroopers to amush them on either side. Din cused loud enough for Grogu’s ears to pick up on the word, the little one waved his fingers out of the pod, giggling and cooing. This was all still a game to the child, who had not noticed the approaching company. 

In the blink of an eye, Din was surrounded with a trooper on either side of him. The one on his right swerved in front of his vehicle, cutting him off. Slamming to a stop, the two speeder bikes barely avoided colliding with each other. 

Din was already in the motion of pulling out his weapon, aiming the blaster at the soldier directly before him. He slid off his bike, feet hitting the sand, while the stormtroopers remained seated in their bikes. 

As if they knew how this was going to end. 

“What do you want.” The question was flat, demanding. Mental inventory of his weapons revealed he only had one — the current blaster in his hand — and yet now two were aimed in his direction. 

_ Note to self _ , he thought,  _ bring more than one gun next time _ . 

If there was to be a next time. 

“Give us the kid.” The demand came through the robotic tones standard of a trooper. “We have orders to return him to The Client.” 

“No.” There was no room for argument in Din’s voice. 

The three of them remained in a silent showdown, neither moving or fighting, firing or backing off. A trickle of sweat fell down his face, his arm arched with the weight of the blaster. But he refused to move. 

“No.” He repeated. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

Din knew the weight to those words, he knew the challenge he issued. And every word he said was true: they would have to defeat him first before they laid a hand on the little one. 

The child cooed from his seat in the pod, raising his hand and giving the stormtrooper whose gun was aimed at him a little wave and a sly grin. Din took the opportunity of the man’s distraction and fired his weapon, hitting him between the soft armor of his neck and shoulder. 

The man went sprawling backwards onto the ground, unmoving. In one perfectly aimed shot, Din had taken down a trooper but there was another still standing. 

The  _ bang _ of the weapon sent the other man into motion, firing his own blaster at Din, who ducked and ran towards the child. He threw himself in front of Grogu, protecting him from the rain of plasma bullets falling around them. The harsh, tinny  _ ping-ping-ping _ off his armor was the only sound. 

Quickly, Din flipped up the top of the child’s pod, protecting him from shards of bullets. Time slowed down, he saw the underlying fright, the trepidation in the young kid’s eyes, but also the bravery. 

Turning and aiming with deadly accuracy, he shot the blaster at the stormtrooper. But the other man simply side-stepped the plasma bullet, firing back at Din. 

Even though his armor was ruined and broken from before, he pressed the half-destroyed buttons on the back of his hand, aiming at the trooper. The metal projectiles he had used in fights before, and that he expected to fly out and subdue the other man, simply fell to the ground. 

“Dank farrik.” Curse his defunct armor. 

The stormtrooper shot the blaster, hitting Din in the hand with the plasma. A jolt of heat and discomfort shocked his hand and as a reflex, he dropped the gun. There was no time to retrieve it from the ground, the other man was upon him, fighting hand-to-hand, punch-to-punch. One particularly well placed throw caught him in the side of his face, throwing his head back and changing his momentum. 

He tumbled to the sand. The blows kept coming but Din pushed off the trooper, kicking until the man lost his own footing and fell too. The punch to his head caused him to see stars and the world before him went in and out of focus. 

Everything in his head went static — 

_ Where was the kid? _

_ Grogu _ . 

_ Where was he?  _

Din cursed himself. Flipping over and pushing with every ounce of strength he had left, he rose to his feet. A wave of nausea rose up and he ignored it; there would be no giving in to weakness, injuries be damned. Finding the child was his only concern. 

And there — the remaining stormtrooper stood. Bloody wounds and dented armor forgotten, he held Grogu by the front of his little robe. The child looked  _ terrified _ , reaching his arm towards Din, towards the only person who would save him right now. 

And Din saw red. Fury and anguish and pure anger. 

“Put him down.” Steel-coated words. Anger at the Empire, at the stormtroopers, at the fact that Grogu had been a target in the first place. 

Din contemplated their situation. Mentally weighing his options, he shifted his stance to his injured leg. Pain flared up and he bit down on his lip to stop the gasp of agony that wanted to escape; if he could deceive this trooper, make him believe Din wasn’t as wounded as he seemed...maybe there was a chance to get out of this alive. 

And all at once, he had a plan. Decades of fighting and hunting and Din could convince plans in the most dire of situations. Reaching for the gun at his hip, he swung it towards the other man — 

And the little womp rat bit down on the trooper’s fingers. The man yelled and flung his hand, throwing the child as well. 

Grogu fell to the ground with a squeal — and the trooper lunged. Din was faster and shot his gun, knocking his enemy in the shoulder. The trooper let out a pained yell, and stumbled. Blood immediately weld up at the wound, cascading over the white armor in rivulets. 

It was in the narrow thin strip of mesh that was underneath his armor, just between the break in the metal, where the plasma bullet grazed his skin. It was a miracle shot — well, a miracle for the stormtrooper who shot the weapon, not for Din who was overcome by pain and agony that traveled up and down his entire body. 

There was nothing Din could do but let out a cry and stumble to the ground, losing his footing on the unstable terrain. Falling on his knees, Din immediately pushed himself back to his feet, or, he tried. 

The stormtrooper came up from behind and shoved his foot on Din’s back, pushing him flat into the sands. His head smacked the front of his helmet and he cursed under his breath. The weight of the other man put pressure on his bruised ribs; he wheezed and struggled to inhale. 

Pushing his arms underneath himself, Din tried to rise against the other’s weight but it was no use. He collapsed. 

He couldn’t move. 

The pressure on his back was growing and his ribs were contorting underneath the weight. He couldn’t breathe —  _ he could not breathe _ —

Then the weight — the foot — was gone. Sucking in air like a dying man, Din felt his body rattle at the sudden intake. His hands were shaking, head throbbing and leg full of agony. Raising his head, he saw the trooper laying unnaturally on the ground, head turned at an angle that was not normal. 

Bracing himself on his forearms, Din sat up, shaking off the cotton in his head. Getting his good hand underneath him, Din pressed himself upwards and onto his feet. The dead weight of his injured leg was bothersome, frustrating, a liability he couldn’t afford to have. His knee buckled and bent, and he fell again, though this time he caught himself. 

Din continued to push through, sitting then kneeling then standing. That’s all he had to do. 

_ Pull it together _ .  _ Get up _ . He could do this. Forgetting the pain, ignoring the throbbing, pulsating ache. Pushing the thought of how blood was running down his leg at a worrying rate in the back of his mind. 

_ But — he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand up, let alone walk.  _

Blood was spreading quickly from the wound, soaking his armor and clothing. The injury was worse than Din had first anticipated. Quickly,  _ too quickly,  _ he was going into shock, the lack of adrenaline making his wounds all the more real. Din began to breathe heavily, gulping in air yet never getting enough. 

He lay there, stunned and unmoving. There was an intense ringing in his head, his mouth was full of cotton as he struggled to remain conscious. The silhouette of the stormtrooper stood over him. A step on the sand, a  _ click _ of the gun, a gasp. 

For a moment, his mind wandered to a place where he didn’t have to worry about the gun aimed at his face, where he and the child were safe and secure from all harm. And looking towards the horizon, Din couldn’t help but wonder if that would ever be true. The sun was setting, the sky scattered with pastel colored clouds. And if this was the last thing he saw, then so be it. 

But there was the child. Standing away from the trooper, half-hiding behind the ruined pod. Din wished Grogu could see his face, be witness to the smile Din was sending him, to tell him everything was going to be okay. 

But then Grogu did something Din was not expecting: he raised his arms. His eyes were closed and a crease formed between his brows; and all at once Din knew what the kid was doing, his mind flashed to the fight — the flying trooper, the  _ smack _ of his body on the ground. 

The one above him had the realization only a moment too late and then he was flying through the air. Landing on a dip in the ground with a  _ snap _ of bone and armor, and he did not rise. 

Din’s head fell to the side, he lacked the strength to hold it up any longer. The edges of his vision were blurring, he was losing consciousness and there was nothing he could do to stay awake. 

The  _ pat, pat, pat  _ of little feet on the sand caught his ear. Barely moving, his eyes lingered to the side and he watched as Grogu toddled over to where he was sprawled on the ground. The child blinked and twitched his eyes, sympathy shone brightly on his face. 

“I’m...okay. I’m okay.” The words slipped from his mouth and as much as he wanted to believe them, Din really wasn’t okay. 

Blood dripped down from the inside of his helmet. Din couldn’t pinpoint where on his head he sustained a wound, he couldn’t — he couldn’t do much of anything except lay there. Inhaling and exhaling, focusing on his breathing, he struggled to keep his eyes open. 

A stabbing pain in his side indicated there was at least one rib was broken, possibly some others had been fractured. Din wouldn’t know the full extent of his injuries unless he —

He needed to get back to the village. 

_ Was he to die here?  _

_ No _ .  _ No.  _ Din pushed those thoughts away. 

He needed bacta. Immediately. 

At the site of a battered and bruised Din, Grogu held his head high and sat down right next to him. Even as a child, there was a heaviness the kid had, a weight to him which shouldn’t be. He was so young and had seen so much in this universe. Din wanted to comfort the child, tell him everything was going to be alright, but only later would Din realize how the roles had been reversed: in this moment Grogu was the one to comfort Din. 

A tiny hand placed itself over Din’s, the coolness was a contrast to how hot his skin felt. His hands were clammy inside the gloves, sweat mixed with blood and dirt. Infection and fever would begin to set in; Din knew this, he understood the effects of his injuries, but he had no strength left. 

Grogu’s fingers curled slightly around Din’s as he closed his eyes. Through hazy eyes and pain-addled thoughts, he watched as the child only stood there, gripping Din’s finger like a lifeline. 

And Din felt the power before he understood it. The remaining energy Grogu had was being used to help him, to bring him back to consciousness. 

To heal  _ Din _ . 

_ No, no _ . He knew what this would cost Grogu. The kid would exhaust himself, use too much of that power which was still so full of the unknown. 

“...stop. You...can’t.” Din protested, reaching his hand out to curl around the child’s fingers, to do anything to stop the flow of power. 

But he was not fast enough. 

The power radiating from the child healed Din’s most fatal wounds, closing the cuts and fading the bruises. Din gasped as breath returned to his body and he _ felt _ the power, the  _ force _ . 

Din sat up. There was no more spinning in his head, the only blood on him was dried and old, no more open wounds. There were some internal injuries that did not heal, he could feel those and feel the pain radiating outwards; but despite not all of his wounds healing, he was astounded at the power. 

If the child had not collapsed face-forward onto the ground, Din would have sat there for as long as it took for his mind to wrap around the fact of how the  _ force _ even worked. That it  _ healed _ him. 

“No.  _ No.” _ Din lightly tapped Grogu’s face yet the child remained unconscious, drained of energy. “Hey, kid, come on stay awake.”

Grogu remained unconscious. 

Gathering the child in his arms, Din stood up. Wobbling at first, until the ground underneath his feet stopped swaying and he could walk without toppling over. 

“Keep going.  _ Keep going _ .” Din would never forgive himself if he stopped here and now. Glancing over to where their speeder bikes had been, nothing remained except pieces of scrap metal. He had not even realized the vehicles’ destruction during the fight. But that would be okay,  _ it would be fine _ . Din could do this. 

He could walk back to the village on his own, the child held tightly in his arms. Complaining about his old injuries earlier in the day seemed like ages ago; he would gladly take the ache that accompanied him before over the full, stabbing pain that remained. 

Glancing down at the child in his arms, Grogu’s shallow breathing had Din worried beyond measure. If he could only get the little one back to the infirmary as soon as his injuries would allow, then everything would be okay. 

_ Grogu would be okay _ . No other thoughts permeated his mind. This was the mantra Din told himself over and over and over. And he took the first step forward. 

The first shift of his body weight onto his wounded leg was agony, but he kept going. One foot in front of the other until he was five, ten, fifteen paces away from the wreckage. Shifting the weight of his body from one leg to the other was an effort he never fully understood before. 

Step after step after step, Din trudged through the unforgiving desert. In reality, the two had not been that far from the small village when the stormtroopers attacked, but the stretch of land between him and their destination grew everlonger. 

The obsidian sky was a dark blanket over him. Snuffing out all sense of direction but he kept walking. And the child kept sleeping. Every step he took eating away at his remaining energy and he was on the edge of exhaustion. 

Seconds, minutes, hours, passed. Din couldn’t tell how much time was slipping by, only that the stars above him moved and the pounding in his head grew. The child barely even twitched, though he steadily remained breathing 

Lights twinkled up ahead and Din stumbled at the shot of adrenaline that shot its way through his body.  _ Just a few more steps _ . 

_ Keep going. Keep walking. Don’t let Grogu down, help him, safe him.  _

Figures were making their way towards him. Blue armor, weapons at the ready, running, running,  _ running — _

  
  


That... _ was that Paz? And Cara? And who — ? _

Din fell to his knees. 

“Mando?” Karga was now before him with a hand on his shoulder, a comment being said. But Din shoved the older man off, there would be a time later for everything, but for now, his only worry was the child in his arms. 

With a concussed-slur, Din tried to speak. But no words came out. Instead, the child began to cry in his slumber, whimpering and whining. 

“Help him.” Croaked Din. “Help  _ him _ .” 

Paz was crouched before Din, talking to him but the words went through one ear and out the other. Static was in his head, blocking all communication, not allowing him to talk or hear or fully comprehend the scope of what was happening. 

People ran around those who huddled next to him. Shouting orders and commands, putting up defenses and shields. If the blood loss and overall shock hadn’t caused Din to kneel, arms still wrapped around the child, he would have been the first aiding those valiant citizens. 

Later, Din would have no recollection of what Paz had said to him, or how Cara had gently taken Grogu from his arms, bringing him to the infirmary. 

The night passed in a blur full of bacta tubes and questions. 

Clarity came to him slowly, much slower than he would have wanted to admit. The bacta drip was working, healing those wounds that still lingered. Time was a concept he couldn’t grasp. He knew it had been mere hours since the attack, and the soft sheen of light out on the horizon suggested it was now early morning. 

Grogu lay sleeping, peaceful and calm, in the bassinet beside his bed. Not a scratch was on the child, he was safe. The silent rise and fall of his breathing sent a wave of calm over Din and he let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

_ Safe _ .  _ He is safe _ .

It had been a close call, there was no other way to say what happened. Changes would have to be made, precautions put into place to ensure something like that  _ never _ occurred again. But for now, they rested and recovered. Din’s mind was turning, already improving fortifications and barriers in his head, adding extra security around the child at all times. Backup plans and escape networks were going to be designed.

But, would that be enough? How could he ensure an attack like that would not happen again. The child would never be safe until Moff Gideon lay in the ground, defeated; until he received proper training for his power. Until —

There was a soft knock on the door and Paz walked. Din sensed the tension rolling off the other man as leaned against the wooden table and he asked, “So, what happened?” 

Flashes came back to Din: shooting the trooper, stumbling to his knees, the thought that he would not be able to protect the kid — all came rushing back. Flashes of blood and sand and dark skies. But also anger, frustration at himself. 

“We were attacked.” 

Din explained what happened, leaving no detail undiscussed. The thought of those stormtroopers tailing them through the outpost, knowing where he and Grogu had been, sent a shiver down Din’s spine. 

And in those moments of telling Paz the entire story, Din had made up his mind: it would not be possible to remain on Nevarro. They had to leave. Continue running and laying low at various backwater towns, where they would not be found for a long time. 

“They were after the kid.” Din said, not holding back at the realization that had struck him. “We’re not safe here.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to check out my kinda new [tumblr](https://jedi-are-you.tumblr.com/).


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